Saturday Night
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are at the end of an assignment, stuck in a boring, hot hotel. Originally posted on section7mfu Live Journal for the Song-Story challenge. The prompt was a you-tube video of Petula Clark singing 'Downtown.' The prompt was addressed but the story strangely morphed into something else to do with a John Denver song. You'll know which one...


"Looks like it's going to be another round of scorchers for the next few days folks," the radio announcer said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. "It's nine fifty-five p.m...remember the date kiddies as we hit a record high temperature today! It's still 98 degrees, so try to stay dry if can, sit in front of the fan with a cool glass of ice tea...that's if you can get any ice. If you have air conditioning, then you are indeed blessed...give me your address and I'll be right over. I'm a courteous house guest."

Illya Kuryakin moaned when he heard that, slapping his hand to his forehead and rolling his eyes in response.

"For those of you from out of town, _the oddlonely truckers from Great Falls, Montana and salesmen from places unknown,_" the disk jockey continued, "just a reminder, things close up tighter than a drum on Saturday night. I'm going to play a little something for you to at least tap along with your toes...given the temperature, it might be best to limit your activity to that. Don't bother heading downtown because _we roll back the sidewalks precisely at ten_. So here you go, Petula Clark's hit, 'Downtown,"

The music began with lively piano introduction...

_"When you're alone and life is making you lonely, __You can always go downtown..."_

_._

Napoleon Solo was in the bathroom taking a shower and hearing the song, he started singing along with it, rather loudly in his usual off-key style.

The blond Russian was laying on his bed dressed only in his skivvies, and taking his pillow; he fired it across the room with deadly accuracy at the radio sitting atop the dresser, sending it flying to the floor.

"I can not take this any longer!" He shouted. "Downtown indeed, people happily skipping along the sidewalk hand in hand...I detest this insipid little song! It is so infantine and naive._ Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens!"_

"Wait, that was the wrong song," Illya suddenly realized, shuddering that his unflappable memory was failing him. Was this heat melting his brain? He paused, listening to the lyrics as Petual sang the lyrics, before talking to himself again.

_"When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry_

_Seems to help, I know, downtown,_

_Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty_

_How can you lose?_

_The lights are much brighter there..._

_Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty_

_How can you lose?_

_The lights are much brighter there._

_You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares_

_So go downtown..."_

"Pretty neon lights'...the 'noise and the hurry'...I wish, but there is none of that in this place. The _'rhythm of a gentle bossa nova_', here?" Illya spat out several more epithets in Russian."What I would give to be dancing a bossa nova in an air conditioned dance hall."

He looked out of the hotel window at the only visible neon sign, at least part of it was. It was supposed to spell out the name 'Hamilton,' but instead it read only 'Ha' in glowing luminescent green, as the rest of the letters were black and lifeless How ironic he thought, it was as though the city was laughing at it's occupants in some great joke.

Napoleon stepped out of the bathroom wrapped only in a towel, having rinsed off to try and cool himself down.

"Hey they're going to bill us for that radio if you broke it," he mumbled, redirecting the oscillating fan towards himself, letting his body air dry, though with the humidity at ninety percent it was doing little good.

He bent over, picking up the muffled radio, and hearing the last of the words sung before he turned the dial, switching it off.

_"Everything is waiting for you, downtown..._

_Downtown (downtown) Downtown (downtown)_

_Downtown (downtown) Downtown (downtown)"_

"They didn't exactly write the song about here you know, and I think it's sort of catchy myself. Come to think of it, where exactly is 'here' again? This is the fifth city we've been to in less than a week and I've lost all sense of direction."

"So what else is new," Illya retorted." You find that catchy? I thought you were a "Mantovani" man..."

"Don't be a smart-ass Russian, and besides it's what's popular right now."

"Oh pa-lease." Kuryakin mumbled "I think the disk jockey said we are in Toledo, but frankly I do not care where we are. I am hot, and we are stuck here in this miserable hotel with no air conditioning, and just that fan...turn it back towards me if you would? There is not a single thing to do here since the city closes up tighter than a clam on a Saturday night, and I imagine Sunday will be even worse. Our flight is not leaving until Monday afternoon! Arrrrrgh! Spending just_ one day here feels like a week." _

"My my aren't we getting a little chafed?" Napoleon snickered.

"Chafed? Napoleon I am in a murderous mood...maybe we can go hunt down some Thrushies if there are any here, which I doubt."

Illya picked up a pile of magazines from the nightstand, rifling through them.

"Look will you, not one less than seven months old...what is it with this place? It is like being nowhere at all."

"Yeah I suppose you're right, I bet the big thrill around here must be to sit in the park and watch the grass die. Hmmm, I wonder if we can get room service? How does a six pack of cold beer and a couple of burgers sound?" Napoleon figured that might quell his partner's grumbling.

"Beer? As long as it is cold I will take it, and tell them to make my hamburger rare, very rare." Kuryakin climbed out of bed, heading for the bathroom to take his own shower...no, he decided, a cold bath would be better. He was more accustomed to those.

"And could you tell them to send up a couple of buckets of ice for the bath?" He called out to Napoleon.

"You wouldn't?" Solo yelled back.

"I am Russian, remember the cold is part of what makes us...us," he said, turning on the spigot and filling the tub with what turned out to be lukewarm water.

"Chyort! Is there nothing cold in this God-forsaken town?" He said as he stripped off his boxers and lowered himself into the water, still scowling.

"Bad news tovarisch," Napoleon stuck his head in through the bathroom door, "No cold beer and no ice. Apparently the other hotel guests had the same idea."

He watched as his partner closed his eyes and slowly submerged himself under the water. As soon as Illya resurfaced Solo gave him a bit of good news.

"I did order you a bottle of vodka, straight from the freezer and the desk clerk told me there's an old ice skating rink downtown that his cousin runs. It's closed right now, but for the right price he'll get her to open it for us. Just think, one giant icicle...sound good?"

"Daaaaaabbbbbbbb." Illya said, lowering his mouth under the water, blowing bubbles as he cocked an eyebrow. This was one of Napoleon's stranger plans but he figured 'whither thou goest.' Anything had to be better than this unmercifully hot hotel.

.

Just after midnight the two agents accompanied by the now off-duty clerk named Drew, met his cousin's sister-in-law Mimi, who'd gotten the key for the rink from the cousin's husband, the one who actually owned the building.

The heavy-set woman, who apparently managed the ice rink, looked a little strange, as she was clothed in a billowing multi-color moo moo dress, along with wearing extremely heavy eye makeup.

She kept winking at Napoleon...

Solo ignored her flirtations; he'd be willing to pay a price for the use of the rink, but only with money. No matter how much Illya was suffering from the heat, Napoleon would have to draw the line somewhere.

Not that the UNCLE agents really cared where the key came from, as long as the place could be opened, they'd be happy, but at a reasonable price...

Mimi quietly unlocked the door, and the four of them walked inside. The master switch was thrown, the lights flickered on and they stood staring at the huge ice rink.

"I'm doing this as a favor to Drew mind you..." she said, innocently holding her hand out, waiting for money to cross her palm."Okay, so how long you fellas wanna skate?" Mimi asked, guessing her chances with the handsome, dark-haired guy were zero to none.

"Skate? Nyet, I want to just sleep." Illya walked out onto the ice carrying a blanket he'd brought with him from the hotel, he opened it and promptly laid down on it with a smile of satisfaction.

"Wow, gee, I didn't think you wanted to do that...an all-nighter is gonna cost you more," she warned.

Napoleon stared at his friend laying there on the ice, looking so contented, and with a shake of his head, he opened his wallet and handed Mimi a fifty dollar bill, on top of the twenty he'd already given her.

"Will this cover it?"

"Heck yeah Mister," she smiled, "I'll have to lock you in though; the crime rate downtown is pretty high, but I'll be back in the morning to get things ready for the general public. If it stays hot like this tomorrow, we'll be busy for sure. That all right with you?"

"Miss Mimi, I don't think that'll be a problem, " Napoleon grinned, knowingly. He flashed her one of his charming smiles, and shook Drew's hand. "Thank you, you've made my partner a very happy man. Now, there'll be another fifty in it for you if we need the premises for Sunday night..."

"Another fifty, jeepers Mister, you're a really good friend," she laughed. "You're making me pretty happy too...no chance you'd want to come over to my place for a drink? I have air conditioning."

"I try to be a good friend, and thank you but no, though I am flattered. I need to watch over my partner to make sure he doesn't get into any trouble," he winked back at her, making her blush only like Napoleon Solo could.

Drew and Mimi left, and once they were gone, he spread his own blanket on one of the benches, opting not to commune with the ice the way Illya was doing.

Napoleon removed his tie and jacket and took one last glance at the Russian, who looked as though he'd melted away in ecstasy. Illya hadn't opened the cold bottle of vodka, but instead he had it resting under the back of his neck, like an ice pack.

"Good night chum," Napoleon called out as he settled in, breathing in the cool air and deciding this had been one of his best plans ever. He'd have to figure out a good explanation to put on his expense report for this one though.

"Good night my friend, and spacibo," Illya replied from below on the rink."I think I am liking this part of 'downtown' now."

Solo laughed and began humming the Petula Clark song.

"Napoleon...I do not like downtown 'that' much."

Solo chuckled at the remark. "Hey, just think buddy, for entertainment in the morning we can go visit the bakery and watch the buns rise."

By that point, Illya heard nothing more as he was happily snoring...cuddled up with his still cold bottle of Stoli, holding it like a Teddy bear.

.

authors note: I suppose this was the antithesis of 'Downtown,' and somehow the story morphed into an homage to the now classic John Denver song, "Saturday Night in Toledo Ohio." No offense intended to the folks of Toledo or Ohio. ( and of course there was a little nod to the Drew Carey Show as well)


End file.
